{"id":42,"date":"2015-08-25T03:09:25","date_gmt":"2015-08-25T03:09:25","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/teaching.lfhanley.net\/eng528f15\/?page_id=42"},"modified":"2015-08-25T03:09:25","modified_gmt":"2015-08-25T03:09:25","slug":"edward-arlington-robinson","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/teaching.lfhanley.net\/eng528fa16\/texts\/edward-arlington-robinson\/","title":{"rendered":"Edward Arlington Robinson"},"content":{"rendered":"

“The Clerks” (1896)<\/strong><\/p>\n

I did not think that I should find them there
\nWhen I came back again; but there they stood,
\nAs in the days they dreamed of when young blood
\nWas in their cheeks and women called them fair.
\nBe sure, they met me with an ancient air,\u2014
\nAnd yes, there was a shop-worn brotherhood
\nAbout them; but the men were just as good,
\nAnd just as human as they ever were.<\/p>\n

And you that ache so much to be sublime,
\nAnd you that feed yourselves with your descent,
\nWhat comes of all your visions and your fears?
\nPoets and kings are but the clerks of Time,
\nTiering the same dull webs of discontent,
\nClipping the same sad alnage of the years.<\/p>\n

“Mr. Flood’s Party” (1920)<\/strong><\/p>\n

Old Eben Flood, climbing alone one night
\nOver the hill between the town below
\nAnd the forsaken upland hermitage
\nThat held as much as he should ever know
\nOn earth again of home, paused warily.
\nThe road was his with not a native near;
\nAnd Eben, having leisure, said aloud,
\nFor no man else in Tilbury Town to hear:<\/p>\n

“Well, Mr. Flood, we have the harvest moon
\nAgain, and we may not have many more;
\nThe bird is on the wing, the poet says,
\nAnd you and I have said it here before.
\nDrink to the bird.” He raised up to the light
\nThe jug that he had gone so far to fill,
\nAnd answered huskily: “Well, Mr. Flood,
\nSince you propose it, I believe I will.”<\/p>\n

Alone, as if enduring to the end
\nA valiant armor of scarred hopes outworn.
\nHe stood there in the middle of the road
\nLike Roland’s ghost winding a silent horn.
\nBelow him, in the town among the trees,
\nWhere friends of other days had honored him,
\nA phantom salutation of the dead
\nRang thinly till old Eben’s eyes were dim.<\/p>\n

Then, as a mother lays her sleeping child
\nDown tenderly, fearing it may awake,
\nHe sat the jug down slowly at his feet
\nWith trembling care, knowing that most things break;
\nAnd only when assured that on firm earth
\nIt stood, as the uncertain lives of men
\nAssuredly did not, he paced away,
\nAnd with his hand extended paused again:<\/p>\n

“Well, Mr. Flood, we have not met like this
\nIn a long time; and many a change has come
\nTo both of us, I fear, since last it was
\nWe had a drop together. Welcome home!”
\nConvivially returning with himself,
\nAgain he raised the jug up to the light;
\nAnd with an acquiescent quaver said:
\n“Well, Mr. Flood, if you insist, I might.<\/p>\n

“Only a very little, Mr. Flood–
\nFor auld lang syne. No more, sir; that will do.”
\nSo, for the time, apparently it did
\nAnd Eben apparently thouht so too;
\nFor soon among the silver loneliness
\nOf night he lifted up his voice and sang,
\nSecure, with only two moons listening,
\nUntil the whole harmonious landscape rang–<\/p>\n

“For auld lang syne.” The weary throat gave out,
\nThe last word wavered, and the song was done.
\nHe raised again the jug regretfully
\nAnd shook his head, and was again alone.
\nThere was not much that was ahead of him,
\nAnd there was nothing in the town below–
\nWhere strangers would have shut the many doors
\nThat many friends had opened long ago.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

“The Clerks” (1896) I did not think that I should find them there When I came back again; but there they stood, As in the days they dreamed of when young blood Was in their cheeks and women called them fair. Be sure, they met me with an ancient air,\u2014 And yes, there was a<\/p>\n